Chapter 51
Chapter 51
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: crow
Chapter Title: EP.15 – The Knight Holds a Banquet (1)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
An underdog rebellion that no one could have anticipated.
Such a humiliating and swift end to a war game between mages and warriors was exceedingly rare.
And cases where the warriors overwhelmingly dominated were even rarer.
Yet no one dared doubt the warriors' victory.
And for good reason.
'They're completely wiped out.'
'Can't tell who won and who lost.'
While the mages appeared utterly unscathed, the warriors lay collapsed in exhaustion, every one of them deathly pale.
It was proof they had poured out all their strength—a testament to how much mental effort they had invested in the fight.
In other words, the decisive difference lay in who had been more desperate and given their all.
Thus, the spectators showered generous applause on those who had done just that.
Pa-ba-ba-bat!
Some even snapped photos.
No one doubted those shots would grace tomorrow morning's front pages.
It had been that thrilling a comeback story.
"An idea to explode with power?"
"Hmm, more like concentrating their momentum. Or perhaps something that amplifies potential."
"A peculiar fighting technique. Intriguing. Taught by that knight? Quite impressive—oh, no, it has more flaws..."
Those nobles with keen eyes took interest in this new technique, fundamentally different from fighting techniques yet worthy of recognition for its momentary burst and power.
But they showed mere curiosity, not greed.
As the mages had noticed, it seemed riddled with fatal flaws.
Not just the time limit, but the strain it put on the body.
Such methods were not 'noble.'
The new technique was certainly fascinating, but not grand enough to supplant fighting techniques.
And above all, it lacked dignity.
Of course.
"Many live with eyes merely for show. Don't you think, Lark?"
Those with true discerning eyes spared no admiration or astonishment.
"They believe what they possess is the best. But that's not entirely wrong. To those who've mastered superior techniques, such 'skills' hold little appeal. ...Still."
"Still?"
"If someone perfects that technique, it would surely be a threat. One no knight could dare ignore."
"Ho, I expected a narrow judgment, but you're full of surprises."
"M-My lord..."
A duke's knight who had instantly grasped its value, and his lord teasing him.
The duke.
Blake Vivian de Galahad stroked his chin with an intrigued gaze.
"That young man is endlessly entertaining just to watch. Not only skilled, but a talent for teaching too? How amusing."
"He's not worth your attention."
"And he's still burning with rivalry? I thought he'd fallen in love or something."
"!!?"
"Haha!"
Duke Blake laughed heartily.
He was the closest thing to a disciple he had.
Always so serious and cold, no fun to tease—yet since getting involved with that knight, he'd started to seem human.
Like a wooden puppet finally coming to life.
Well, as he became more human, training hours increased, and his sparring partners wore more grimaces—but that was none of Duke Blake's concern.
"Tempting. If he weren't my nephew's man, I'd have snatched him for myself."
"......"
"But for your growth, leaving him as a rival might be beneficial. He'd provide quite the stimulus."
"I-It isn't like that. What could such a lowly cur do?"
"Tsk tsk, so dishonest."
"......"
Knights and their excessive pride and rivalry were a problem.
"...Still, better a high rivalry than those lecherous cat bastards."
But the amusement was fleeting.
His gaze grew icy.
Infuriating.
Was it the demonic nature of the magic sword stirring 'murderous intent' just from the lions' presence?
Even without the sword, Galahad and Lionel had crossed an irreparable river.
Practically mortal enemies!
They had to be eliminated.
However.
"Just give the order, my lord, and I'll mobilize the knights."
"No need. Losing you to those northern cats would be the greater loss."
"My lord! We won't lose!"
"You wouldn't lose. But there would be sacrifices."
"Ugh—!"
Unable to guarantee total elimination, they had to hold back for now.
The duke's knight, Lark de Dylon, couldn't refute his lord's words.
As stated, the opponents were no lesser.
He wasn't so lacking as to fail to sense their prowess.
"Let's rise now. Time to chat with my nephew after so long."
"...Won't you see the young miss?"
He paused.
For the first time.
"...That child seems to dislike seeing me."
His expression darkened.
"Umm."
"...Haa."
Duke Blake, ever dignified, let out a long sigh.
Thinking of his fairy-like adopted daughter—willful, her moods as unpredictable as the sky—brought it on.
"Hm, Lark, am I that unlikable? She always frowns at me. I thought my face was decent, but am I growing old...?"
"......"
Speechless at this point, he fell silent.
Much to say, but Lark held his tongue, instead glancing around.
Maidens of blooming beauty blushed and peeked at his lord, so...
'My lord, saying that in public will get you stoned.'
Especially by the men.
Lark couldn't dare irreverence to his revered lord, merely bowing his head silently.
The cadets—no, the valiant combatants who had fought splendidly—received endless cheers, encouragement, and applause.
"Congratulations on your victory."
"Splendid."
"You were magnificent, Lady Polt."
This wasn't a win for the swordsmanship department.
It was solely the fruit of their efforts.
Thus, the credit was theirs alone, and no one skimped on cheers for the victors.
For now, a heartwarming scene transcended status, with ladies offering bouquets.
Receiving flower bouquets from lovely noble ladies.
They accepted them with感動.
"Th-This much..."
"Please take them. You deserve it."
"Haha..."
"...You were so cool."
"!!"
The time for a man to fall in love: 0.3 seconds.
Sapling No. 5 was already naming his future child.
But he wasn't alone in this delusion and excitement—everyone felt it.
Even beyond the swordsmanship department, ladies handed flowers.
When else could they experience this?
Luxury upon luxury.
Yet sadly, their popularity was fleeting, the most flowers and attention from noble ladies going to one girl.
"L-Lady Polt, I'll cheer for you from now on too."
"W-Would you accept my handkerchief?"
"...You were so cool at the end."
"Th-Thank you."
Valiant female warrior.
Heroine of the comeback.
Today's MVP.
All pointed to Levy Polt.
'I-I didn't do much.'
In truth, she'd just worked as hard as the others and luckily landed the final blow, leaving her awkward.
But to the spectators, that didn't matter.
'She was awesome, really.'
'So moving.'
Her bravery despite her small frame.
Charisma like a conductor leading the orchestra, judgment shown through her whole body.
Running silently to the end, swinging her rapier with all her might.
Levy Polt had more than become women's idol.
In any era, proactive, resilient women were objects of admiration.
Above all, she was a noble.
That was key.
A noble lady wielding a sword instead of embroidery.
'She might become a knight.'
The profession of knightess.
Harder to enter than the eye of a needle, eligibility only for noble ladies, proving they could rival male knights despite being women.
And today, Levy Polt had shown that potential.
Considering the last knightess appointment was 40 years ago, her value soared sky-high.
Not just pure goodwill approaching her.
But for now.
"Thank you..."
Best to savor this joy.
...Of course, not everyone congratulated them.
"Impossible! Th-That's right! Y-You have to steal the flag! Breaking it doesn't count as victory!"
"Pathetic, slave."
"N-No, it's not! We didn't lose...!"
One refused to accept defeat—or reality.
Odwal Bernard.
The name of the loser who had demanded the war game, only to suffer defeat.
He planned to call a lawyer immediately.
Absolutely refusing to admit—
"No, the warriors are indeed the victors. Those meant to protect the king failed, and the king's life was taken. How could they not be the losers?"
"!!"
For a moment, Odwal trembled like a man out of breath.
Even stiff-necked as he was, he couldn't defy the apex predator before him.
The princess,
the kingdom's next heir, shot him down with a cold gaze.
"If you can't trust my judgment and thus act so recklessly, say so now. I'll hear you out."
"......"
"Speak."
"...N-No, I admit defeat."
How dare he resist further?
Under the princess's pressure, Odwal trembled and submitted to the result.
"Hmph."
With a contemptuous glance, the princess praised the cadets.
"Splendidly done."
-Choo, choo-oong!
Suddenly, all knelt.
Heads bowed automatically before Isis's appearance.
She surveyed them satisfactorily.
"To think the kingdom has so many talents. I am impressed."
...Even breaths seemed to vanish.
"I saw countless roses. Beautiful, so beautiful. Yet field roses bring another感動. Beautiful and radiant—you were just that."
Her voice grew sweeter, melting their brains.
Even heavenly soprano couldn't match this sweetness.
At some point, the commoners sobbed.
Regardless of status.
"F-For the house's glory."
"Hic..."
"Princess, we revere you."
No strange magic or brainwashing—just innate charisma and charm.
Yet in a way, scarier than brainwashing.
One person's natural allure wielding such influence.
"I am pleased today. Thus, I shall hold a banquet. You are the stars. You must attend."
-Choo choo-ooong!!
Who would defy her words?
Sudden banquet or not, attendance was mandatory.
No room for irreverence...!!
"—Count me out. I have other business."
"......You insolent fool."
Ttak!
The princess's fan spat fire.
The absolute master of '(Unintended) Celibacy Arts,' casually deflecting even stronger-than-brainwashing charm.